Thursday, May 18, 2017

Lessons from a terminal diagnosis

Receiving a diagnosis of having a fatal disease shocked me last
September. The experience underscored three truths:

Few of us know when we will die. And, except in cases in which death is
imminent (e.g., from illness), I would prefer not to know when I will die.

The possibility of imminent death, always a possibility for everyone
yet something that we invariably discount heavily to avoid becoming overly
morbid and too risk avoidant, was undeniable. Moments became precious. Some
South Koreans stage fake funerals to gain
more appreciation of life by allowing death to become more of a reality.

Upon being diagnosed with a terminal disease, I had no interest in
shopping for healthcare even though I am fortunate enough to have healthcare
coverage that often allows considerable choice of providers. What I wanted was
a cure (something that is currently impossible) or treatment that would allow
me to live as well and as long as reasonably feasible. I had a disease of which
I had never heard, no criteria for judging the best available treatment, and
was in no condition for researching treatment options.

Now being in remission and having a relatively good life expectancy
prognosis for someone with my diagnosis, the most poignant question with which I
grapple is: How do I want to use my remaining time, presumably a number of years?

Persons with a terminal diagnosis are not the only ones who ask that
question.

In working as a chaplain with young adults, I found that many of them
rarely struggle with that question. Instead, many young men and women act and
talk as though they simply want to grab all of the gusto they can, regardless
of the risks, confident of their own invulnerability. The largest number of
exceptions to that generalization I discovered was among the Midshipmen at the
Naval Academy, many of whom were highly motivated to achieve some form of greatness
or excellence in life. I suspect this is also true of students at the nation’s
premier colleges and universities.

Midlife crises represent another moment when humans often find that
they cannot ignore the question of how they wish to use their remaining time.

Christians should also ask that question because we all have a terminal
diagnosis. Death invariably follows birth. The Easter season, after living with
the stories of Jesus’ death during Lent and Holy Week and now living with the
stories of his resurrection, affords Christians an excellent annual opportunity
to ponder the question, What do I want to do with the rest of my life? How do I
want to live?

One of the vital yet often ignored differences between Christians and
many others is that Christianity maintains life has a purpose. Popular preacher
and bestselling author Rick Warren has packaged the presumption in his book, The Purpose Driven Life. I love the book’s
title. I find his exposition simplistic and wrong. Contrary to Warren, our goal
is not to persuade others to accept any form of the Christian credo.

Instead, I argue that our goal is to increase the love of God and love
of neighbor. Loving God is difficult because as I have repeatedly insisted in Ethical
Musings postings, the idea of God is irreducible to human language or concepts.
We can, however, not only easily identify our neighbor but also, in moments of
honesty, know how well we love our neighbor. Indeed, perhaps the two precepts
are actually one: perhaps the best way to love God is to love our neighbor.